A/N: This entire idea was spawned just from the thought of Derek correcting someone on what color Stiles' eyes are. LOL
Derek stood by the bar, ostensibly waiting for the bartender to swing by and take his order, but in reality, he couldn't care less if the bartender ever noticed him. He just wanted to have a legitimate reason to not have to hang out with his friends.
He watched them, over in the corner. Stiles holding court with his back to the wall, tipped up on the back two legs of the chair. Scott on his left, Lydia on his right, and the rest of the pack surrounding him, laughing and teasing and smiling, happy, relaxed for the first time in he couldn't remember how long.
It was why he was over here, all alone. He didn't know how to be with them. He didn't know how to be with him.
A pretty brunette sidled up to him, leaning forward into the bar so her breasts pushed up and threatened to overflow the already low-cut shirt. Derek glanced down at her but didn't otherwise acknowledge her presence. He could smell the interest coming off of her in waves and he just didn't… He didn't want to deal with being hit on while Stiles was right in his line of vision.
"Buy me a drink?" she suggested flirtatiously, and he shook his head. He felt like an ass, but he couldn't find it in himself to care too much when her face darkened and she stomped off down to the other end of the bar.
It went like that for the next half hour. The bartender finally wandered over and, for lack of anything better to do, he ordered something. The guy dropped something foreign and dark in front of him and Derek took a swig from the longneck, ignoring how the sound of Stiles' over-the-top laughter echoed across the bar and crawled under his skin to dig at him painfully.
Scott ambled up beside him, snagging the bartender's attention and asking for a round of Irish car bombs while Derek grimaced. "You know what those are, right?" he asked, and Scott shrugged.
"That's what the guys asked for."
"If anyone throws up, I'm leaving and pretending I don't know any of you."
Scott snorted. "Dude, that's what you've been doing all night."
Derek dropped his head, flushing. He knew his avoidance was conspicuous, but…
"Why did you even come out with us?" Scott asked bluntly, and Derek averted his gaze. "You know Stiles is going to end up leaving with someone tonight, right?"
Of course he knew. That was the whole purpose of this stupid fucking trip, because Stiles had gotten dumped by his boyfriend and everyone was tired of him being sad and celibate. What Derek wasn't willing to tell anyone was he was there to vet Stiles' potential choices. He wasn't about to let him leave with someone who would fuck him up even worse, whether emotionally or physically. Not that he thought any of the others would willingly do so, but he was sure they wouldn't be as naturally suspicious and careful as he himself would be.
While he stewed in his own head, a perky blonde had approached the bar. Scott scooted over so she could step between him and Derek, and Derek waited tiredly for Scott to proposition her.
Sure enough. "Hey, are you here with anyone?" he asked her, casually, and she looked him up and down. Scott waved his hands in protest. "I'm not asking for myself, I'm here with my girlfriend. But my best friend is here, too, and he needs cheering up. I think you'd like to meet him."
"You don't even know me," she protested warily. "How do you know what I'd like?"
Scott shrugged, his boyishly charming grin working its magic on her as she started to smile back. "Because my friend is awesome. Everyone loves him." He turned around and waved at Stiles, who lifted his chin in acknowledgment before resuming his conversation with Erica. "See him back there, with the brown hair, brown eyes?"
"Amber," Derek said unthinkingly, and he flushed when both Scott and the blonde turned to look at him. Scott knowingly, the blonde curiously. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he tried again. "His eyes aren't brown. They're amber, or honey. Or whiskey. Not brown." Oh, yeah, right. That made it all better.
The blonde smirked. "I don't know, I think this guy over here is more interested in cheering your friend up than I am." She moved down to the other end of the bar, where the bartender seemed to be camped out, and Scott shrugged before casting a speculative gaze at Derek. "I don't think she's wrong."
"About what?" Derek muttered, staring down into the narrow neck of whatever shit imported beer the bartender had given him.
"You're more interested in cheering Stiles up than anyone else we've seen in here tonight." Scott studied him. "Why haven't you said something to him?"
Derek refused to meet the other wolf's eyes. "Because I can't handle watching him laugh in my face."
Scott snorted so loud he choked on it, and Derek finally cast a gaze his way. "You know the reason we've been trying to get women to come over to the table?" he asked, and Derek stared at him. "Because you're here, so there's literally no point in us trying to scout out any guys for him. You're the only guy he could possibly see."
Flushing, Derek resumed staring into his beer. "You're wrong."
"You're stupid." That caught Derek's attention and he looked back over at Scott in annoyance. "You want to know why we really dragged Stiles out tonight?" he continued. "Because we all knew you'd never let him walk out of here with some random, drunken one-night-stand. You love him too much and you're too protective of him."
"So, what, you were trying to force my hand?" Derek grumbled, and Scott shrugged.
"Nothing else was working. This was our Hail Mary pass."
Involuntarily, his eyes lifted to Stiles, who had foregone involvement in the conversation to sit and watch them. A slight smile curved his lips, and when he saw Derek watching, the smile grew. Get over here, he mouthed, and Derek hesitated.
"I thought he wanted something different. He didn't want me when… he rejected me."
"You told him you were in love with him the day he graduated," Scott reminded him with a roll of his eyes. "He was eighteen. That was five years ago, he's graduated from college, and he's back in Beacon Hills for good. You don't think things are different enough to warrant trying again?"
He worried the inside of his cheek, feeling the nip of his fangs into the tender skin. "Maybe I should at least go talk to him," he said uncertainly, and Scott grinned at him, a brilliant beaming thing.
"Yeah, you should do that. You should definitely go do that," Scott encouraged, biting his lip to keep from laughing while he pushed at Derek's shoulders to get him to step away from the bar.
Derek felt like he was floating as he drifted over to where Stiles was sitting. Stiles was smiling up at him, hopeful and tentative in equal measures, and Derek drew in a shuddery breath. "You want to get out of here?"
"It depends," Stiles replied, and Derek started in surprise. "Did you mean what you said at graduation?"
Derek fought down a blush as he locked his gaze on Stiles'. "I meant it then. I mean it now."
The sound of Stiles' heart throwing itself into overdrive warmed Derek to the core. "Then let's get the fuck out of here, Sourwolf. I need to fix a mistake I made five years ago."